


Chaos Breaking Loose

by aislingdoheanta



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, M/M, Modern Era, protest fic, the amis - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 00:36:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2753084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aislingdoheanta/pseuds/aislingdoheanta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras and a few others get injured in a protest. The Amis want to make sure he's okay. Especially Grantaire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chaos Breaking Loose

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elle_Nahiara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elle_Nahiara/gifts).



> WARNINGS: Brief mentions of rape culture (it's what their demonstration is on). There's a little violence, but nothing too graphic. 
> 
> The actual prompt was: "njolras gets hurt at a protest. Protective Grantaire strikes, and then caring Grantaire and Amis."
> 
> I hope you like it! :)

Enjolras gets hurt at a protest. Protective Grantaire strikes, and then caring Grantaire and Amis.   
Any side couples accepted. Triggering content accepted

It was supposed to be a peaceful demonstration. Everything had been going according to plan. A large crowd came out to join them, their signs and posters ready. Of course, the police showed up as a “security measure” for the “safety of the citizens.”

Grantaire had trouble keeping the snort of derision to himself. Luckily Bahorel was standing next to him and elbowed him in the side to keep him focused.

At a recent group of the Amis, Eponine and Cosette had brought up the recent happenings around certain campuses dealing with sexual assault cases and how they are dealt with. Rather how they’re rarely dealt with. They wanted to organize a type of event that not only shed light on this issue, but to also use it as a way to teach people exactly what rape culture is. There are so many people who simply do not understand it and because they don’t understand it, they contribute to it. 

So the Amis got to work planning the event. Feuilly, Jehan, and Grantaire on poster and pamphlet duty because, “that’s the only thing that you can actual focus on enough to finish, Grantaire.” Well, according to Enjolras anyway. Though Grantaire didn’t have any complaints about it. 

Marius, Courfeyrac, Musichetta, and Eponine began talking about it and making sure to visit as many on campus groups to spread the word about the upcoming demonstration. Bahorel was in charge of scouting for the location and obtaining the proper paperwork and permits for the event because he always had a way of getting what he wanted. Not to mention he knew the campus better than Grantaire—which Grantaire would always protest. The truth was, between the two of them, there wasn’t an inch of the entire campus that they didn’t know about.

Joly and Combeferre worked on making sure that this event was safe and prepping first aid kits—just in case. Bossuet was also helping them because only Joly was convinced that he wasn’t going to accidentally ruin what they were working on. Bossuet ended up helping them by pointing out that there could be a lot of upsetting triggers for potential survivors and they should try to have somewhere they could go to calm down.

That left Enjolras and Cosette to write the speeches. They originally planned to work together, but they each had a very distinctive voice—Enjolras pure fire and passion while Cosette was warm and informative but with a hard bottom line. They both captivated and even the cynical couldn’t help but feel that rush of just _maybe_ change could happen.

So here they all were, standing at their chosen quad on campus. It’s the one that gets the most student traffic as it’s on the most direct path from the library to the university center where most students go to eat. Of course that also meant that it was the area closest to the, for lack of a better term, “outside world” which is why the police showed up after being called about a horde of angry rioters.

Cosette was speaking, her voice soft and anything but gentle as she relayed the information and urged people to change their behaviors. Bahorel and Grantaire were standing close together, their eyes scanning for any potential threat. It wouldn’t be the first time people got a little jumpy or angry and a fight broke out.

There were some hecklers and other people who began to protest their informative demonstration. Grantaire kept his eyes on that group, but they didn’t’ seem to be doing much more than shouting and laughing to each other. 

And then Enjolras stood up to speak and Grantaire felt his breath catch in his throat like it always did when Enjolras was in his glory like this. He stood on the side of the fountain, getting a hand up from Combeferre and staring daggers at the rambunctious group of people across the way. He spat every word out, directing everything at them and Grantaire couldn’t help but be transfixed.

He wasn’t alone.

It was true what he said to Enjolras all those months ago when the man had claimed that Grantaire believed in nothing. Grantaire believed in Enjolras. He always had, he always would, because if there was a single person who could inspire change and action it would be him. His golden hair acted like a halo as it blew around his face in the harsh wind. His red coat wrapped around him like a beacon of change and hope as he gestured toward the other group. He was an Avenging Angel, meant to the people to create the world he believed society was capable of having.

They cynic—realist, Grantaire would always correct mentally—in him knew that this utopian society Enjolras envisioned of the future would never actually come to pass because that would require everyone acing like Enjolras expected them to. But every time Enjolras started speaking, his passion flowed over Grantaire, surrounding him in this warm, fuzzy haze that made Grantaire want to believe. And not just for Enjolras’ sake. 

It was during his distraction that chaos broke loose.

The guy came out of nowhere. Bahorel didn’t even see him. One minute Enjolras was standing on the fountain, finishing his speech and the next he was crashing into the fountain below him after a guy in a blue hoodie tackled him from the middle. 

Grantaire nearly saw red. From the looks of Bahorel’s face, so did he. They nodded and dispersed. Bahorel was off to find Joly and make sure he got out all right since they might need a doctor, and by extension that mean Bossuet and Musichetta as well. Grantaire was off to find their leader and probably severely injure the person who thought it would be fine to push someone into a stone fountain in the middle of fucking winter. 

He reached the fountain just as Enjolras was beginning to come back to himself because of fucking course he hit his head on the giant statue that stood in the middle of said fountain. The guy was still there and saying things but Grantaire honestly couldn’t hear anything but the blood pounding in his ears. He simply grabbed the man’s shoulder, making sure to put pressure in just the right spot before very nearly throwing him out of the fountain before reaching down to help Enjolras up. 

Enjolras was shivering already, his entire being soaked to the bone. Grantaire didn’t even hesitate before shrugging out of his coat. He carefully pulled off Enjolras’ dripping coat and handed it to Courfeyrac who had randomly appeared. If Grantaire had been able to focus, he’d have realized that Courfeyrac had been there almost the entire Grantaire had been. He’d been the one to send the other guy away before turning around to help Grantaire with Enjolras.

Grantaire wrapped his coat around Enjolras while Courfeyrac pressed a handkerchief to the wound on his head. 

“Where’s th’ others?” Enjolras mumbled but he reached up to press his own hand on the wound instead of Courfeyrac. 

“They’re getting out of here and trying to make sure that nothing more serious happens than just a little shoving,” Courfeyrac said as he dropped his hand. “You okay?”

“’M fine,” Enjolras told him.

Grantaire snorted. “You’re about to shiver right out of your skin.”

He pulled Enjolras close, helping his head to nestle against his neck. His hands ran up and down Enjolras’ back, trying to get him to warm up some how. 

Courfeyrac frowned over at Enjolras and caught Grantaire’s eyes. “We should get out of here.” 

Grantaire nodded and the two set off. Courfeyrac striding in front, Grantaire keeping Enjolras close as well as making sure to keep a careful watch out. He could feel the waves of anger crashing out against them, the terror nearly strangling him. 

“That’s the one who was leading it!”

Grantaire whirled around to see a few people rounding on them. He shoved Enjolras toward Courfeyrac and shouted, “Get him out of here.”

“Grantaire—“ Enjolras tried, but Courfeyrac was already hauling him away.

Grantaire felt guilty as he watched Courfeyrac take Enjolras with him, especially seeing Enjolras’ furious, wild eyes still searching for him. But it was for the best. These situations can escalate quickly, like it happened today and Enjolras wasn’t the most skilled fighter.

Don’t mistake him for weak. He knew how to hold his own, sometimes too much so. There was the one time Bahorel had to physically haul Enjolras away before he caused irreversible damage. It was just that he didn’t have the skills that Grantaire and Bahorel had, didn’t know his own limits and isn’t always able to calm down quick enough.

He was also bleeding from the head and half-frozen, so it wasn’t the best idea for him to remain behind. 

“Looks like we’re stuck with the little guard dog,” one of the guys said.

Grantaire prided himself on not being a particularly violent man. Yes, he boxes and fences, but not out of any need for violence or blood. Even his bar fights—few and far between—are normally started for some other reason (Coming to Bahorel’s side most often). But he was just at his wit’s end today.

Something about seeing his Apollo, the bright, burning blood trickling down his face in harsh, bitter red caused something more feral to break in Grantaire.

He doesn’t entirely remember the fight between the men and him. Only the pain of a well-landed fist to his collarbone area and kick to his shin. His knuckles were raw, his muscles singing from the force. 

Another blow landed on his cheek, forcing his concentration back to the situation at hand.

He was about to rear back when Feuilly came out of nowhere to help him. 

“Christ, R,” he said as he stood back up after his tackle that the other man didn’t rise from. “You do all this yourself?”

Grantaire only shrugged, his left shoulder stiff. 

Feuilly reached a hand out to touch his cheek. “That’s going to be pretty nasty.” 

“I’ve had worse.” 

Feuilly only hummed before grabbing his arm. 

“The others okay?” Grantaire asked. He didn’t remember where everyone went after the riot started. He could only focus on Enjolras. 

“A little battered, bruised, but nothing incredibly serious.” Feuilly led Grantaire down the familiar path to Enjolras and Combeferre’s flat. “No more worse for the wear, though.”

“That’s good.”

“What were you doing here, by yourself, taking on three men?” Feuilly asked, his voice deceptively soft. 

Grantaire wanted to wince. Feuilly didn’t get angry—that was Enjolras and Combeferre and Bahorel. He was just disappointed, concerned. Somehow that was always worse.

“Enjolras was hurt and they wanted to start more shit,” Grantaire told him. “Courfeyrac took Enjolras to the flat and I stayed to make sure they wouldn’t follow.”

“I see,” Feuilly said. “You know he’s going to be upset.” 

Grantaire nodded. “Yeah, but he won’t be suffering from hypothermia so I’d count that as a win.” 

The group was, as expected, fawning over Enjolras, their injured leader. It didn’t escape Grantaire’s notice that Marius was holding ice to his face—with Cosette’s help, Bahorel helping Jehan with a bruise blossoming on his neck, or Bossuet resting his wrapped ankle. 

Courfeyrac was sitting next to Enjolras, nearly wrapping himself around the other man while Combeferre and Joly fluttered over Enjolras. 

“I’m fine!” Enjolras snapped. 

“But Enjolras, we just need to make sure—“ Joly tried, but was cut off by Grantaire and Feuilly’s arrival.

“Where the fuck were you?” Bahorel asked, though whether it was directed at Grantaire or Feuilly neither were sure.

“Helping this guy win his fight,” Feuilly said before going over to Joly to be voluntarily checked out. 

“Helping?” Grantaire asked with mock annoyance. “I was handling it entirely well on my own.”

“The mark are you cheek would disagree,” Feuilly told him with a smile, before Joly scolded him because that was messing up his inspection.

Grantaire snorted and glanced over at Enjolras. He expected fury, but it was mostly absent. His eyes were softer than normal, annoyed sure, but there was mostly concern and relief.

“How’re you holding up, Apollo?” Grantaire asked as he crouched down in front of him. He directed his question more to Combeferre than Enjolras. 

“He’s doing pretty good actually. The wound on his head is pretty shallow. It’s just a little wider than we thought which made it look like it was deep,” Combeferre said, over Enjolras’ scoffs that he was fine. 

He noticed Courfeyrac pulling Enjolras closer and rubbing his arms. 

“He still cold?” Grantaire asked Courfeyrac. 

“ _He_ can answer for himself,” Enjolras told him before anyone else could say anything.

Grantaire only raised an eyebrow to spur him into speaking.

“Yes,” Enjolras said stiffly. “I’m a little cold.”

Apparently that was all anyone needed to hear. Musichetta jumped up to go and make tea.  Eponine went to fill up a hot water bottle—only Enjolras and Combeferre would continue to use those. Courfeyrac nearly pulled Enjolras into his lap, despite his protests that he was _fine_. Joly went to grab extra blankets and Combeferre rushed off to grab Enjolras extra layers.

“I take it you didn’t tell anyone that you were cold?” Grantaire questioned. Enjolras chose to ignore him.

After they got Enjolras settled back in again, Combeferre pulled Grantaire to the side to check him over. (Apparently they had been blocking the television and certain people had gotten a little upset, even though they weren’t watching anything.) 

Grantaire could feel Enjolras’ gaze on him though, like lasers or something equally as powerful, pinpointed directly at him. After being declared “Nothing a little rest and food won’t cure, but ice on the worst of it wouldn’t hurt” they went back to rejoin the group.

He had been planning on going to sit next to Joly and Bossuet—who’d sprained his ankle while walking to sit down in a chair so he could stay out of the way—until he saw Enjolras’ face. Grantaire changed directions and sat down next to Enjolras.

Enjolras gravitated back toward him, reaching out with a hesitant hand to Grantaire’s face—being so open about their relationship was still something Grantaire was coming to terms with. (Slowly)

Grantaire caught his hand and held it next to his thigh as the group chattered about which movie to watch and where to order food. “I’m fine.”

“You sent me away like a child,” Enjolras accused.

“Yes. Because you were hurt, Enjolras. You wouldn’t have been able to do anything more than freeze out of your body,” Grantaire said quietly. 

“So you decided the best course of action was to face them yourself? With no one around you?” Enjolras questioned, his eyes flaring.

“I handled it fine,” Grantaire said. 

“What if you hadn’t,” Enjolras nearly whispered. “What then?”

Grantaire shook his head. “There’s no point in wondering about the what-ifs. What happened, happened and we just have to go on." 

“Fine. But know that I’m not happy about this,” Enjolras told him. 

“Duly noted,” Grantaire told him. “Anything I can do to bring about your forgiveness?”

Enjolras thought for a moment but shifted closer to Grantaire. “I’m still a little cold.”

Grantaire wasn’t sure if Enjolras was seriously cold or just seeking comfort, but either way he was more than happy to oblige. He wrapped an arm around Enjolras, pulling him into his side and adjusting as Enjolras nearly draped himself over Grantaire’s chest. He made sure to arrange the blanket so it covered both of them.

Enjolras didn’t say a lot else through the rest of the night. He only spoke up when they needed to know what he wanted to eat from the Thai place they were ordering from. Instead he just stayed snuggled up to Grantaire who was gently rubbing his back, trying to lull him into sleep—the man had barely slept the past week in preparation for this demonstration on top of everything else.  

That didn’t deter the rest of the group from hovering over Enjolras the rest of the night. He would shift and someone would be there to ask what he needed—Do you want some water? More medicine? How about a nice cup of tea? Are you still cold? Sore?

Enjolras was just shake his head and mumble that he was fine. Eventually he drifted off to sleep, pretty much as soon as he finished eating and the opening credits were over, which Grantaire was thankful for.

Everyone else started drifting off after that, Joly holding Bossuet on the soft while Musichetta curled up in the corner. Everyone else sort of made a huge nest of limbs and blankets and pillows on the floor. Combeferre cleaned up, locked the doors, and shut off the lights.

Grantaire gently, or as gently as he could, shifted Enjolras so he was laying more on the sofa than on Grantaire before he sneaked away to use the bathroom and shucked his jeans in Enjolras’ room—he hated sleeping in jeans.

When he returned, Enjolras was awake again and reached out to him. It was more of a raised arm in Grantaire’s general direction than Enjolras actually reaching specifically for him, but Grantaire was willing to cut Enjolras a little slack since he was half-asleep still and clearly exhausted. 

Grantaire wedged himself between Enjolras and the back of the sofa before readjusting the blankets. Enjolras turned into him, his face mashed against Grantaire’s chest.

“Thought you’d left,” he mumbled.

Grantaire poked him in the side. “Like I’d just leave you in your hour of need.”

Enjolras snorted.

It was quiet for a while and Grantaire was beginning to let the hazy glow of the television lull him toward sleep.

“Don’t leave, yeah?” Enjolras asked suddenly in the dark.

“You’d have a hard time getting me to leave after what happened today,” Grantaire admitted. 

“Good.” That seemed to be the final word on the matter because Enjolras went quiet and mostly still after that and Grantaire had no choice but to follow him into sleep.


End file.
